


weep for yourself (you'll never be what is in your heart)

by Jazer



Series: dismiss your fears [2]
Category: Dr. STONE (Anime), Dr. STONE (Manga)
Genre: Asagiri Gen-centric, Character Study, Chrome is a living furnace, Gen, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Kohaku is a Good Bro, Nighmares, Senkuu does what he wants, Senkuu is also kinda awkward in emotional conversations, Trust Issues, at the end, but it's ok cuz i am too, i probably missed something again, kind of, listen recovery takes time and sometimes it takes thousands years, suika voice: what's a harem, tagging is hard, there are cuddles here, to actually make a first step
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-18
Updated: 2019-11-18
Packaged: 2021-02-12 21:42:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,769
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21483286
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jazer/pseuds/Jazer
Summary: Asagiri Gen from before petrification would tell you that he doesn't need friends.But just because you don't need them, doesn't mean you don't want them, and Gen finds out that once you befriend someone like Ishigami Senkuu it's really hard to make him leave you and your deep-rooted problems alone.
Relationships: Asagiri Gen & Chrome, Asagiri Gen & Ishigami Senkuu, Asagiri Gen & Kohaku, Asagiri Gen & Suika
Series: dismiss your fears [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1548505
Comments: 22
Kudos: 277





	weep for yourself (you'll never be what is in your heart)

**Author's Note:**

> title taken from little lion man by mumford and sons
> 
> there was someone in the comments saying they'd like to see Senkuu finding out about Gen's past and so i spend my last week writing this work, because I can, and i have no self control, i mean i have two pop quizes tomorrow and it's midnight and what am i doing????
> 
> as always, i've researched what i could but i'm running on little to no sleep so there MIGHT be some errors i will fix later.

Gen’s only fear was his mother’s icy hands and stench of alcohol.

Today, however, it’s the sight of people drinking and dancing around; today it’s the deep-rooted irrational doubt of seeing the people Gen is beginning to trust throw away any kind of logic for the mare hour of blissful euphoria the alcohol is giving them. For some reason Gen believes that he should have seen that one coming – it’s not like he expected them to not celebrate at all – but it still catches him off guard when they grab him and try to make him join in.

The first hour is not bad. He stalls and changes topics so swiftly that nobody really notices him inching away from the crowd. He hangs out with the kids in the less visited part of the village and smiles when needed, acting as the second guardian when the woman supervising them gratefully accepts Gen’s offer to watch them so she can join the celebration.

The kids don’t mind, either. For the most part. Some are still wary and Gen understands – he did act as an enemy in the beginning. He still doesn’t let most of them know that he’s on their side and they still get reminded time and time again that Gen switches sides as he likes and goes where it benefits him the most.

They don’t need to know that the Kingdom of Science feels more like home than the world he lost due to the petrification ever did. They don’t need to know that Gen would rather die than let anyone get hurt in the village.

They don’t need to know; just like the world from the past didn’t need to know.

It’s a new beginning. Gen keeps all the unnecessary information to himself; lies his way through and doesn’t let himself hesitate.

There are people out there that care now and Gen has to be careful not to slip, to not let them see. However—

“Gen, why are you not with Senkuu and others?” Suika asks suddenly and Gen has half-formed answer already on the tip of his tongue, when she asks another questions, “Is it because you’re still sick?”

Gen blinks, “I’m fully healed, dear Suika.”

Suika continues to stare at him, “Then why are you here?”

“Because I like your company.” he says and it seems to be the most believable excuse and yet, Suika’s head doesn’t turn around and she still looks like she’s expecting another answer. Gen knows he can’t give her any other. “And because somebody has to look after you while the adults are having fun.”

“We’re responsible enough.”

Gen gives her somehow a bitter smile, “Are you?”

He remembers himself and remembers standing in front of the mirror, hair all black and eyes dead, with hundreds of fan letters in his hands. He knows that back then, he let the letters fall to the ground and he can still hear himself whisper, “I’m mature enough, I can do this, I can pull through without her,” because back then, Gen was only sixteen or so and he was already on his own and trying to convince himself that he’s not a kid anymore.

It’s not healthy, would all the psychology books say, children need adult’s guidance.

A hesitant, small hand reaches to poke him in the shoulder. Gen doesn’t startle, but it’s a close thing, and looks down on Suika. “Yes?”

“You don’t look okay, Gen.” She says quietly.

The fire is cracking behind her and Gen decides that maybe, maybe kids are still far too observant for their own good.

“I’m fine, Suika-chan,” he smiles but he has a feeling that it doesn’t quite reach his eyes, so he brings out his hand – cold hand, because it’s still freezing outside – and pets her hair, “Just lost in thought.”

“What were you thinking about?” Suika asks, something glinting in her eyes, “Was it that harem you all speak about?”

Gen laughs awkwardly, coughing. He’s ready to protest, when there’s another voice, right behind him and he cuts himself off. Right. The woman came back.

“Thank you so much for watching them for me, dear,” she says and Gen wants to tell her that it’s no big deal, he can even stay there for the whole night if needed, but the woman is already ushering the kids to their homes for their bedtime story. Gen feels awfully empty when he finds himself alone in front of the fire, without Suika or her friends chatting.

He misses the world seen through the child’s eyes – the curiosity that comes whether Gen brings up something about flowers and they all immediately perk up. It’s innocent, it’s pure – it’s everything Gen never got to experience.

After all, Gen’s first vivid memory is of his mother slapping his face. Sometimes, seeing someone like Suika helps to forget that fact.

It’s getting colder. The night still goes on. Gen gets up and heads towards the life of the party, hoping that maybe he will be able to sneak through the crowd, but if there’s anything he’s learned in his short time in this stone world is that he’s grown to be really unlucky. Maybe because of Senkuu’s influence.

He gets as far as he expects – that is to say, nowhere really. He gets caught by Kohaku before he could even step a foot on the bridge. No amount of trying could make her let go of his hand and he watched helplessly as she pushed them both towards the makeshift table somewhere on the edge of the party. Chrome lifts his hand in a greeting, Senkuu looks up to acknowledge him and old man Kaseki and the former chief of the village are too busy trying to down the entirety of the barrel by themselves. Like some kind of contest.

As soon as he’s made to sit down, Gen is hit with the strong smell of alcohol and acid comes up his throat. He looks uneasy even as Kohaku sits right next to him, putting some space between him and the older men drinking.

“You disappeared right at the beginning, Gen!” Chrome complains, “You almost missed the entire party.”

_Don’t think about the smell, don’t think about the smell—_

“Sorry. Someone had to watch the kids and the duty fell on me. I will have you all know that I’m the greatest babysitter out there.”

“They hardly need a nanny now,” Senkuu comments, “They’re not that young.”

Loud laughter from Kohaku’s father is all Gen can hear and the loud thud of the barrel on the ground is all he can feel. He grips at the table and gives a smile, “Right. Perhaps I just wanted to make sure my favorite detective is doing well.”

“You’re spoiling her way too much,” Kohaku comments briskly, “And she’s the only ‘detective’ we have.”

Gen rubs his bare feet on the ground. The cold sand burns. He focuses on that sensation.

“Oh, right. You want something to drink?”

_No—_

Gen nearly chokes on his air when Chrome stands up, “Won’t be necessary, I don’t really—“

“Don’t be so stuck up!” Chrome calls out, “You’re allowed to, anyways. I heard it relaxes the body and stuff. Really good batch, too.”

Gen shakes his head, and catches Kohaku glancing at him. He suddenly wants to leave, the air suffocating. There’s tightness in his chest, too. Something wrapping around his ribs and squeezing. He wants to breathe, he wants something other than—

“Here!” Chrome places a cup in front of him, with wide smile, “Even Senkuu says it tastes good.”

“I didn’t drink the whole cup, though. I’m not a fan.” Senkuu comments dryly, before looking at Gen, “It’s not terrible, though. You’re legal, anyways, right?”

Gen is, but he never— He couldn’t even _look_ at that stuff back then.

He feels faint, and he knows he must look pale. He could handle being around drunk people – he’s used to it by now, with his mother’s addiction and the parties after shows – but he was never _made to drink it_, it was never placed right in front of him because he knew how to avoid it back then, he knew—

He doesn’t know anything now. It’s all new. And Gen—

His stomach twists and he feels everyone watch him. If he doesn’t drink, they will ask. All he needs to do is take a sip and no one will wonder, no one will question. One sip, that’s all. He raises his hand, he grips the cup and there’s something in his throat. He tries to ignore it.

He brings it closer.

Old man Kaseki laughs, another barrel hits the ground. The former chief leans over them and Gen can’t take it, he can’t take the smell and the stench of their breaths.

He nearly dry-heaves placing the cup back on the table, feeling sick. Nearly folds onto himself and flinches away from the man above them and closes his eyes, tight. He doesn’t want to see him, doesn’t want to hear anyone.

Everything is burning and yet everything is cold. Gen tries to breathe without feeling nauseated. Kohaku’s hand grasps his shoulder and she peers at him, concerned. Gen lifts a hand to wave her off, but when she uses her other hand to shoo off her father, Gen stops himself.

She’s not trying to invade his space. She glares at her father and tells old man Kaseki to stop being so loud and he faintly hears her tell them to find another drinking place. He slowly realizes that Chrome took the previously placed in front of him cup and relocated it to the far end of the table.

Gen strangely feels out of it.

“This is exactly why science is better than parties.” Senkuu deadpans and it breaks the tense silence.

Chrome cracks a smile, “Why? Because it’s not loud?”

“Oh no, it is loud. Sometimes. But it’s also limited to few people at the time. I prefer my solitude over this.”

“Your friends seem to like the party.” Kohaku comments. Her hand is still gripping Gen’s shoulder.

“Taiju and Yuzuriha?” Senkuu leans over the table, squinting his eyes, “Well. I bet they’re slow dancing somewhere there.”

“Romantic,” Kohaku notices, “Do they do that a lot?”

“No, and I appreciate it.”

Kohaku snorts.

Slowly, Gen lets go of the table, shaking hand resting on his knees. A wave of exhaustion nearly crashes into him.

“I think I’ll,” Gen tries to cut in, tasting ash in his mouth, “turn in early for the night.”

He doesn’t look at anyone, but he twitches when Senkuu stands up, “Good. I’m going with you. Late parties are not my type anyways and I think Magma is trying to beat Kaseki in drinking, too.”

“Oh no, he is?” Kohaku turns around, “That is not going to end well.”

“Let’s notify Jasper,” Chrome suggests as they stand up and then, to Gen and Senkuu, “Have a good night, you two.”

Kohaku lets go of Gen’s shoulder only when he stands up and she’s sure he won’t fall over. She bids them goodnight as well, disappearing in the crowd soon after all.

Then, there’s Senkuu by his side, the warm presence in the cold night.

“Let’s go, Mentalist.”

Gen follows, as always. No hesitation, no questions asked – he just does.

* * *

Nightmares are logical.

That’s what Gen knows. He also knows this: sometimes nightmares happen because your brain is processing trauma. Sometimes, nightmares happen years after the trauma happened because only years later you feel safe enough to process it.

Gen thinks that three thousand and something years is a long time; he also thinks that for some reason his brain decided that yes, it is, indeed, time to process what happened to him.

He doesn’t like it, obviously. He doesn’t think he needs to get through this whole process – what’s the point, anyways? His mother is not here, his father was never in the picture to begin with. Gen is fine the way he is, the way he built himself from ground up. Asagiri Gen the Mentalist – the most shallow man walking on Earth. That’s what he wanted, isn’t it?

There’s no reason for Gen to—to—

“You know, sometimes, I feel like if I close my eyes, I will go back to counting numbers,” Senkuu says laying down, head propped on the pillow, relaxed, nonchalant, “Sometimes, it takes someone like Taiju or Chrome to ground myself.”

Gen reacts like he usually does when things get too close and deflects, “Senkuu-chan, didn’t know you wanted to play therapist.”

Senkuu snorts, “You see, I don’t pretend to know shit about psychology. That doesn’t mean I don’t notice things, Mentalist,” he takes a deep breath, as if steadying himself, “And I’m not playing a therapist, but don’t you think that you pointing it out just proves my point that you, indeed, could use one?”

“That’s not what I said—“

“It’s not.” Senkuu agrees easily, “I didn’t say that, obviously. I actually thought you just have a bad day, they happen. But,” there’s a pause, “there is something, isn’t it?”

Gen purses his lips. He’s laying down on the blankets and under even thicker blankets and he still feels cold. His hands still shake a little as he grasps the edge of the cover tighter.

“No,” his voice is confident, because lying was always easy for him, “there isn’t.”

Gen isn’t an empathic person, not really. But he feels, rather than sees, Senkuu almost deflate in disappointment. But if there’s anything Gen learned about him then it’s the fact that Senkuu never gives up, he just ends up having side projects and gives each project his attention. Sometimes, it happens that the projects end up on the sideline so he can think of correct solutions.

This thing – whatever Gen will call it later – he thinks Senkuu will just leave for now.

“You sleep-talk, you know?”

Gen’s eyes snap open. He can’t move.

(Nightmares are logical.)

“Didn’t know that,” Gen drawls out, “You learn something new every day.”

Senkuu hums, not really disagreeing. Then, he turns on his side and covers himself up with a blanket even more. Gen feels even colder.

(Nightmares are also a way to process trauma).

Gen can’t breathe, “And what am I saying?”

There’s a beat.

Then—

“Lots of things, Gen.” And he doesn’t say anything after that, just letting the words hang in the air.

And they do hang there. They ring and echo in Gen’s head, they make his muscles tense, his head loud and his hands shakier and shakier until Gen’s entire body is trembling. He doesn’t know how much of that is caused by cold and how much is caused by a fear.

That night, Gen doesn’t fall asleep at all.

* * *

Ask Gen’s opinion on recovery and he will say that the first step is the hardest; that the second you realize you’re going forwards you become terrified of going backwards and relapsing. That’d be his opinion in general. Now, if you’d ask him, “how’s your recovery going?” Gen would immediately shut down.

Recovery is good, he decides. But not when it’s making you slip up.

Gen admits to having a great grasp on his own limits and triggers – just like with the stench of the alcohol he tried to subtly hide away from it, he also knows that there are other, small details that even though Gen’s pretty sure don’t scare him anymore, they could potentially make him slip.

They’re insignificant and so far, Gen didn’t have problems with them. Not really. The Alcohol Incident was the first and he wanted it to be the last mistake.

He finds that, recovery never, ever works out the way you want it to work.

There are some things that start to remind him of his mother.

Gen, for the most part, tries to not remember her. He tries to get rid of her smelly breath, nights spent by her bed watching her sleep and making sure she doesn’t choke on her own vomit, days of wondering whether she will weep and cry for forgiveness or slap him for a sound too loud. Some habits can’t be so easily forgotten, though.

(Gen wishes they could.)

He’s learned to walk quietly, always barefoot; if he doesn’t make a sound, she won’t even notice he’s there. He’s learned to keep up the smile and lie without flinching; saved him from others finding out what’s behind the closed door. He’s learned so much just so she wouldn’t—

There are habits Gen fought to unlearn. Flinching away, getting worked up over the smallest things, stuttering over his lies, biting into his fist to keep quiet and digging his nails into his skin to ground himself. Some have disappeared over the time and made him more confident; some stayed behind and made his life a tiny bit harder.

After all, he doesn’t think that suddenly holing himself up in the forest is a healthy coping mechanism.

It’s not. He knows. He desperately wishes he didn’t feel the need to do that, to hide and bottle it up, but sometimes the weight of the stone world is too much. Gen doesn’t know how Senkuu doesn’t crumble, he doesn’t understand how can Senkuu always get up, always try and try again until there’s a solution.

He can’t. He’s always been a little weak. Through hard work and dedication Gen climbed up the wall to fame, but what’s fame in the light of science here?

Who’s Asagiri Gen in a world where mentalist aren’t as needed, where entertainment doesn’t play a big role like it did? Senkuu said he’s needed, that Asagiri Gen is needed, because his skills are valuable.

Are they?

It’s stone world. There are no medicines save for the drug they created for Ruri. There is no TV, there is no thick, heavy weighted blanket in Gen’s first apartment that he rented out with his saved paycheck. There is no comfort food or an option to tune something out with headphones.

Everything is scary, sometimes. Usually, Gen doesn’t care; but usually, Gen isn’t haunted by his mother’s ghostly hands on his shoulders, hands that he remembers so vividly from his nightmares.

Today is not a good day.

He doesn’t want to slip up, he doesn’t want to do anything, honestly. Everyone has days like this, when things get too much and you just want to curl up and not think, when you just want to hide in warmth and close your eyes. Gen never let himself do that, always too guarded, always too tense to do anything more than occasionally drink cola over dinner.

Today, he thinks that lack of warmth is getting to him. He doesn’t want to cause trouble for anyone, doesn’t want anyone to see him vulnerable again, so he just slips away to the forest, dressed in the thicker robes Chrome got him. It doesn’t chase away the chill just yet.

There’s a place not so far away from the village. Gen likes to go and sit there, just stare ahead. Sometimes it just helps to be away from everything.

He was a fool to think that someone wouldn’t finally notice, though.

“So.”

Gen twitches.

“That’s where you disappear, huh?”

“Kohaku dear, what are you doing here?”

She gives him a look, hands on her hips. She goes over his face, over his slightly hunched form and drops whatever hard look she had, looking away. “Following you, I guess.”

“I see that,” Gen clenches his hands, “but why?”

“I’m a bit suspicious of you after you decided to hide away your illness the last time,” Kohaku answers without beating around the bush. Gen winces at the mention, “and Senkuu may not look like it, but he worries, too.”

“There’s no reason to, Kohaku-chan,” he answers, maybe a bit harshly. Kohaku never flinches away, instead she moves to sit next to him on the ground, sitting cross-legged. “You can go back to the village.”

“No.”

Gen’s hand trembles, “Why not?”

“Because I don’t think you want to be alone.” Gen stays quiet, so Kohaku continues, “I think you just think you want and that’s why you disappear. I still think you’re just running away from somebody.”

“Bold of you to assume that.”

“Maybe.”

“Did Senkuu send you, then?”

“No,” Kohaku leans backwards, “He didn’t. I came on my own.”

“Interesting.”

“Mhm.”

There’s a beat of silence, then Gen sighs, “Let’s get going then.”

“To the village?”

“Where else?”

“I don’t know,” Kohaku admits, “but it doesn’t look like going to the village will help you.”

Times like this Gen really has to wonder how much he actually knows about others, how much he can gamble with thinking that he knows somebody. There are times where he’s so sure he’s got it all grasped in one hand, all that knowledge – because knowledge was all Gen ever had for himself – only to be proven wrong.

Does he really know Kohaku?

Can he really, really say without any doubts that she cares about him? Can he say that she doesn’t? What about the rest of the people Gen knows? Back in the past, in the modern world, Gen didn’t have friends; Gen didn’t have anyone as close. Distance – it’s safe. Gen can’t possibly know everyone like the back of his hand, he never could.

So what can he say?

How does he manipulate the situation? Should he make something up? Kohaku isn’t as smart as Senkuu, but she’s not any less sharp.

What about—?

“Hey,” Kohaku’s hand lands on his shoulder and Gen realizes that his face twisted into something unusual, something unsure. He hates it, “we can just stay like this. I wasn’t joking – Senkuu doesn’t know where I am. Neither does anyone else.”

Gen wants to stop thinking. He doesn’t want to think of all the possibilities nor does he want to keep repeating this broken and shattered mantra of “don’t let them know” over and over and over again.

“Pathetic, isn’t it?” Slips out of his mouth.

Kohaku’s hand doesn’t leave his shoulder, “What is?”

“Me.”

His mother loved him. Didn’t she?

No. That’s not right.

Did she, really?

Gen doesn’t know anything. He doesn’t want to know anything. His brain is overloaded with information he doesn’t need and information he keeps to keep himself safe, but he doesn’t want to. He wants to be able to know stuff just for that – for knowing. He doesn’t want to keep all of this for any other reason than to be able to help people.

He doesn’t want to use it on people anymore.

“That’s not like you to say something like that, is it, Gen?” Kohaku finally takes her hand and stretches out her legs in front of her, sighing, “I don’t think you’re pathetic, at all. I think,” she pauses for a second, humming to herself, “no. I don’t think so. You’re a very reliable asset to the Kingdom of Science.”

“You flatter me,” Gen murmurs dryly, “but you don’t have pretend. I could sell all of you for a single bottle of cola. There’s nothing deep about that.”

Kohaku huffs a laugh, “That’s true. But can anyone besides Senkuu make you one?”

Gen blinks.

“You’re not pathetic, Gen.” Kohaku says, more firm, “But I think it’s saying something that you’ve asked me that, right? I believe that a week ago you were all against sharing anything with us.”

Gen rolls his eyes, “You’re too trusting.”

When he glances back at Kohaku, she’s looking up the sky with a smile. “Maybe you’re just too guarded.”

He snorts.

* * *

Things always get worse before they get better. That doesn’t mean the time slows down and it doesn’t mean that Gen is allowed to have a day off.

In fact, he thinks that because of that whole recovery and coming to terms with living in a stone world he has a lot more work than he ever had. Nice, isn’t it? You end up at square one but still have enough work for the two.

Especially when—

“You really have the worst luck, Senkuu-chan.” Gen mutters out.

Senkuu sends him a grin, “We had to test it on someone. Not my fault it just happens to be your fan.”

There are other ways to test whether a revival fluid works, but Gen supposes that trying it out on a bird when it could work would be wasteful, so he holds back a retort.

The lucky person to break out of the stone is young woman – probably barely in her thirties, if Gen recalls correctly – with dark hair and dark eyes that Gen wouldn’t mistake for anyone. He doesn’t usually remember his fans, nor his haters, but he does know that woman. Whether that’s because she’s into some science stuff Gen can’t remember the name of or because her appearance reminds him of his mother, he doesn’t know.

“That’s absolutely crazy,” she’s saying, once she’s dressed and more conscious of what’s happening around her, “that one minute I’m at Asagiri-san’s show and the next I’m here in this, in this—“

“Stone world.” Gen supplies helpfully.

The woman nods, “Yes! Exactly!”

Senkuu gives her a look, “Are you always so loud?”

“Senkuu!” Kohaku scolds him, “Can’t you stop being so blunt?”

“Nope.”

“I’m sorry,” the woman answers, a sheepish smile on her face, “My coworkers always complained about it. I guess I forgot what it’s like to get scolded. My patients liked it, though.”

“Ah, that’s right,” Gen smiles at her and keeps his hands firmly grasped in front of him, “You were a doctor, weren’t you, Iyasu-san?”

Iyasu nods, “Indeed!”

“I guess my luck isn’t that bad after all,” Senkuu muses to himself, “and at least we got to know whether the revival fluid works or not. Ten billion points for Kingdom of Science.”

Gen holds back yet another retort and keeps himself still when Iyasu stands up, and reaches out her hand for him to shake. He desperately wishes his manager was here to help him escape awkwardness of the situation.

“I’ve always wanted to meet you in person, Asagiri-san!”

Gen twitches at the loud sound, “Pleasure is all mine, Iyasu-san.”

Iyasu beams at him. Gen wonders how she’s older than him and yet acting more and more childlike than he was ever allowed to. He files that away and resigns himself for dealing with the situation himself, smile present on his face as he gestures to the nowhere in peculiar, watching Iyasu’s eyes follow the movement. “Allow me to give you a tour of our little world, Iyasu-san. I guarantee you’d see quite a bit things you’d like it with your field—“

“Oh! I’ve always wanted to put my skills to more use,” she’s nodding and Gen holds back a sigh, “and I’m guessing you lot don’t have a doctor around.”

“We manage,” Senkuu waves his head, “Thanks.”

“I bet this world is as dangerous even with a doctor around,” Iyasu-san says, “but please allow me to help you out. Having me around will be—“

“Certainly helpful, thank you so much, dear.” Gen interrupts her, hand moving once again in the direction of the village, “Allow me to give you that tour. You won’t regret it.”

* * *

Iyasu didn’t regret the tour. Gen certainly did.

In fact, he’s _still _regretting it.

“It’s amazing. Almost like fate,” Iyasu is saying, her bright – genuine, genuine_, genuine,_ something Gen never had a real chance to be – smile making him look away, “that we got to meet like this, Asagiri-san.”

“Indeed,” he agrees easily, “truly fascinating.”

“I was there, you know,” Iyasu is saying and Gen pays little to nothing attention to what exactly comes out of her mouth, “for your last show. You looked a bit sad, to be completely honest.”

Still not listening, Gen hums.

Iyasu continues, “I was wondering… I mean!” She waves her hands, “You seem to be looking good, Asagiri-san, but I can’t help but see you like a, hm. That’s hard to say.”

Gen wriggles his hands in the sleeves of his robes. He forces himself to listen now. “Iyasu-san?” He questions, quietly.

“You remind me of my nephew a lot, Asagiri-san.” She finally admits and Gen forces down a flinch and brings up a hand to scratch his neck, wanting to appear sheepish and perhaps make her drop the subject. It only makes her continue, “You’re close in age, as well.”

“Your nephew is nineteen years old, Iyasu-san? What’s he like?”

Iyasu-san blinks, but shrugs, “I haven’t seen him for quite the time. I’m merely comparing here, because if I’m not wrong, when that petrification happened, you were month or two from your birthday, right?”

Gen wills himself to look ahead, “Correct.”

“Mhm, and that’s why I can’t help but think that maybe I just felt a little sorry for you, Asagiri-san.”

“I quite like my job, Iyasu-san—“

“You looked very lonely.”

That shuts him up. He’s afraid of looking up at her face, so he stares down ahead and nods at her to continue even though everything in him tells him to shut her out.

“I always knew you liked it. Entertaining people. Being the mentalist for people out the to admire. I liked that dedication and passion in your shows, Asagiri-san, but doesn’t mean I never tried to look past that kid’s façade.”

“What are you implying?” Gen quirks an eyebrow, “That I’m in need of some charity case friends?”

Iyasu looks sad at that and she shakes her head. “I’m only telling you what I saw back then. Nothing is sure, although,” she tilts her head at him, “the fact that you’ve suggested that first implies a lot. In my modest opinion.”

“Modest opinion, she says,” Gen mutters under his breath, mockingly.

Iyasu looks away, “I’m sorry to have upset you, Asagiri-san.”

“I’m not upset.” He denies immediately and snorts, “Maybe at myself. Thanks for pointing out flaws in my performance, though.”

A pause, then:

“Is it?” a quiet question pierces a minute long silence.

The wind blows a bit louder and when Gen looks back, Iyasu is staring at the village ahead.

“Is it, what?”

She glances at him, and only now Gen realizes that in this light, with this expression, she looks older than she behaved and a lot less than his mother’s young, but yellowed features.

“All this that I saw. Is it a performance, still?” Gen stares at her, barely trembling, and not daring to move just yet, “Asagiri-san,” she asks as if she were speaking to a spooked animal, maybe to a child patient in her office, soft and yet, _and yet—_ “Have you never stopped acting, for just a minute, to see how it is to not perform in front of people? After all these years in stone. Did you—?”

He shakes his head and takes a step back, before he remembers himself and gives her a smile. Something tells him that it’s way more bitter than his usual pristine and sharp grins because Iyasu looks a bit resigned.

“A show must go on, or so they say, Iyasu-san,” Gen answers, voice wavering only a little as he brought himself back from whatever hell his mind wanted to place him in and turned in the direction of the path leading to Ishigami Village, “and actors never stop acting.”

Iyasu follows after him when he starts walking, but she still manages to say:

“No… I think even actors sometimes need to be themselves.”

* * *

“Is our new local doctor accommodating well?” Senkuu asks, hunched over a blueprint and mumbling to himself as he scratches something out, “Hmm?”

“Splendidly, Senkuu-chan.” Gen answers making beeline to the entrance to the observatory, fully expecting to be let in because while Senkuu values his privacy, Gen somehow got his permission to have his own blanket in that place with no problems. Perhaps his little stunt with a cold helped his case.

However, Senkuu’s hand shoots forward, blocking Gen from making another step. His breath hitches slightly.

“Is that all?”

Gen smiles, tight-lipped, “What else can I say? Iyasu-san is an excellent addition to the team. She’s observant, can work in a team. Her favorite flowers are tulips, did you know? And she’s great at poker – apparently she beat her coworkers five times a day on her break. Talks too much, so I’m guessing her parents encouraged that or she’s just naturally filling in the silence and maybe she’s a tiny bit too—“

“Mentalist—“

“—energetic, but with Kingdom of Science practically always with some project on side, she will fit right in. Has a nervous habit of checking in on everyone, so she’s probably had to be the mature to take care of her younger sibling. Quite possible it’s also tied with her parents not being able too—“

“_Gen.”_

He snaps his mouth shut, breathes out and then, “Yes, Senkuu-chan?”

Senkuu is looking at him, not concerned, not really, but with that something in his eyes. Something Gen doesn’t want to acknowledge because once he does it can easily be taken away.

Senkuu wants to say something. Gen’s mind echoes with the scientist’s last words that terrified him, the ‘you sleep-talk, you know?’ and that thought that he knows, _he knows_ and then—

“It’s getting colder,” is what he says instead and he pats place next to him, “keep me company, will you?”

Gen’s mind halts.

“Company? You want my company?”

“That’s what I said, yes.”

Gen frowns. There’s something that he’s missing, but he shakes his head and sits down, almost automatically. And almost falls over when Senkuu grabs his foot and brings it closer, pressing something wooden against the bare skin.

“What—?”

“You’ll get a frostbite if you walk like this in winter.” Senkuu says, completely unbothered by Gen’s irritated face at almost kissing the ground.

“I’m fine—“

“You get cold easily, don’t you?”

Gen swallows and looks away, “No. I said I can’t get warm.”

“Same thing,” Senkuu argues, “which is not the point, anyways. You’re getting winter shoes, whether you like it or not.”

“But that will—!”

Silence.

Senkuu blinks and looks up. Gen stares back, a little surprised at his own outburst, hands clenching and unclenching on the ground, foot hanging in the air, uncomfortable. _It’s stupid_, he thinks. Stupid because why is he so opposed to having shoes when it will help him in the long run? When it will stop the rocks from hurting his feet too much?

_She will hear you walking,_ whispers something in his mind.

Gen can’t seem to make himself speak when Senkuu carefully asks, “That will, what?”

_Aren’t you just protecting yourself from someone who’s not here anymore?_

Oh.

Right.

_Mama’s not here now, is she. _

Gen’s shoulder slump as if the realization itself lifted the weight of the world off his shoulders and he brings the hand not holding him up to his face, letting out a hoarse laugh. His shoulders shake, all while Senkuu only looks at him, not moving an inch.

Of course.

_Of course,_ Gen thinks, _she can’t hear me walking now, because she’s not here._

He doesn’t have to watch his step, he doesn’t have to avoid creaky stairs and floor. He doesn’t need to walk on egg shells when she’s in the living room and he doesn’t need to carefully talk his way out of a situation where she’s raising a bottle to hit him.

“Nothing,” he manages to get out, voice relieved, “nothing. Sorry, Senkuu-chan.”

“It’s fine,” Senkuu watches him for a second longer, before he lets go of his foot and turns to his blueprints, “Now go away, you’re distracting me.”

“Didn’t you want my company, though?”

“Nope. Changed my mind. Bye, Mentalist. Go take a nap, you’re annoying.”

“Always a charmer, Senkuu-chan.”

* * *

Warm.

Warm, warm, extremely warm and comfortable and Gen can’t believe himself that he hasn’t tried the usual trick of ‘hey, isn’t it a little cold?’ on Chrome before because oh man, Chrome is also a living furnace. He’s also a very tactile person at heart, not minding Gen sitting between his legs in front of the campfire, _at all._

Senku barely spares him a glance, “Did you really just find out that he’s naturally this hot?”

“I’m not speaking to you, Senkuu-chan, for you have neglected to tell me that when I’ve told you, multiple times, how cold it is. Shame on you, Senkuu-chan. Shame on you.”

Senkuu throws him exasperated look, “Aren’t you the one who was all peachy with the weather when I asked, last time?”

“Lies. Lies and slander.”

Suika giggles, nestled in the crock of Chrome’s arm while Chrome himself only huffs, smiling. Senkuu shakes his head and goes back to eating his ramen. Kohaku wordlessly throws Gen another blanket with a, “I can’t believe the fire isn’t warming you up yet. I’d overheat a long time ago.”

Gen shrugs, tucking the blanket around himself and struggling to make it so his back were covered as well.

“Here, let me,” Chrome takes it from him and skillfully wraps it so Gen is comfortably swathed in it, “I used to do it a lot for Ruri and Suika. They get cold easily.”

“Not as easily as our mentalist disaster,” Senkuu mutters out over his bowl and glances at Gen when he leans his head against Chrome’s knee, “Hey! Don’t fall asleep.”

“Senkuu-chan will carry me if I do.”

“Like hell I will,” Senkuu splutters, “I barely managed to get you in Chrome’s hut when you were stabbed. See how far I can get you on even ground and we wouldn’t even move a millimeter.”

Gen considers it, then, “Kohaku-chan can carry me, then.”

She barely spares him a look, “I’ll pass.”

Suika perks up, “I want to be carried, too!”

Kohaku glances at her, sees the little pout on her face, then sighs, “I’ll think about it.”

“We’re winning, Suika-chan,” Gen whispers to her, “Give Senkuu that look and maybe he will even let us crown him with a flower crown.”

“Never.” Is Senkuu’s deadpanned answer. Then, “How’re the shoes?”

“Great.”

“Just great?” He asks doubtfully.

Gen hums, “Do you want me to list all the things I like about them? Because I can. In English, even.”

“No thanks.”

The conversation drifts from that, switching from Chrome’s and Senkuu’s excited rant about something they’re about to make with Kohaku quipping about them not knowing how to rest, before the talk slowly fades away from Gen’s consciousness.

It’s so easy, he muses to himself, to fall asleep just like that, surrounded by them and not feel like he has to be awake and on alert.

So easy. Too easy.

_(“Mama, when is he coming home?”_

_“He’s not, Gen-chan.”_

_She’s filling in another glass with something that smells awfully and itches Gen’s nose and there are dark circles under her eyes. Her hair is a mess, probably after tugging and tugging at the band that held her braid in place._

_Her eyes are red, too. _

_“Why not?_

_“Don’t know, kiddo.”_

_“Is he mad? Did I do something? I can fix it, Mama! Just tell him to—“_

_“He’s not.”_

_A pause, then, “Then why isn’t he coming back?”_

_“Because people are shits who can’t be trusted for anything more than an occasional fuck, Gen-chan.”_

_Her nails are dancing on the kitchen counter while she pours herself another drink. It’s getting late and the outside world is getting darker, and darker._

_Just like Mama’s eyes. _

_“Like…,” he swallows, “Like Papa?”_

_He could forget everything else after that. He wouldn’t be able to recall what she said after that. Still, he can vividly remember how she looked at him, eyes unfeeling, empty. Defeated. _

_“Papa never gave a damn, Gen-chan. He wouldn’t even give a fuck if you died.”)_

There’s a tap on his shoulder and Gen begrudgingly opens his eyes. Chrome sends him a bright smile, “It’s not as comfortable to sleep here as it is in the hut, Gen.”

“I’m not getting up,” Gen declares seriously, “Don’t even suggest that. Hard labor work is over for the day.”

“If I carry you now, you have to promise to help me out with gathering materials tomorrow,” Kohaku speaks over.

“Materials? Heavy, very dangerous materials Senkuu-chan loves to mess with? No thanks.”

“Wood, mostly. Stop dramatizing, I don’t use dangerous ones as often.” Senkuu adds in.

“Fine.” He mumbles. “If you carry me.” Then, “And Suika.”

A sigh, then, “Yes. Obviously. Thank God you’re so thin.”

“Hey! I take offense to that, dear Kohaku!”

* * *

“Oi, Gen.”

“Yes?”

“You do realize that you’ve practically moved in here, right?” Senkuu asks, laying on his back and staring up into the sky. He’s not even covered in blankets like Gen is, and yet he doesn’t seem cold at all.

“I don’t know what you mean,” Gen says, eyes closed and happily snuggled into fur beddings, “I’m just… sharing.”

“It’s like, my hut. You do realize that, right?”

“Yes.” Then, “And I told you that I share.”

Senkuu sighs, then turns so he’s half-laying and propped on his elbow. He stares at Gen with a disbelieving look, breathing out, “That’s not even a point.”

Sensing an exasperated tone of voice, Gen shifts slightly. He wriggles his fingers, unsure. He doesn’t like the fact that he’s actually bothered whether he’s an inconvenience or not. That’s now how the whole ‘I’m hogging your blankets’ is supposed to go.

Slowly, he replies, “I can go back to—“

“Sleeping in the lab?”

Gen hesitates, “I actually shared a hut with some other villagers. And Chrome, before the overflowing rock collection put me off.” A ridiculous smile made its way onto his face, but he doesn’t dare to open his eyes just yet, “I can’t believe he literally cares about them more than letting a fellow citizen crash at his place. About stupid _rocks._”

Senkuu snorts, “Jealous?”

“Very much so.”

“Mhm. So why don’t you?”

“What don’t I what?”

“Don’t play dumb, Mentalist. It’s not a good look on you.”

Gen dares a glance at him, but Senkuu isn’t really looking at him – more so, it looks like he’s staring somewhere else, putting something together, figuring an equation out. It’s a bit off-putting, for some reason, when it’s a middle of the night and there’s only Gen and Senkuu around.

“Your blankets are really warm.”

“We know that’s not the reason why you keep coming back, Gen.”

Gen huffs, “I don’t know. You tell me.”

Senkuu finally, _finally_, locks his eyes on him and hums to himself. Gen is torn between wanting to smile ironically at him and just turning around and ignoring him. He even considers humbling himself and inviting himself over to Chrome again, if his precious rocks weren’t in the way.

“I don’t really know. You’re not science, there’s no formula to follow with you, seriously.” Senkuu admits, sighing, “You do whatever you want, you go whenever you want. You could probably turn the entire village against me.”

“I’ve—I’ve already said that, didn’t I?” Gen manages to get out, a bit confused, “You argued against it.”

Senkuu scratches his neck, “Yes, well,” _what, are you suddenly changing your mind?_ “Just because I know you _won’t _do it doesn’t mean I don’t know that you _could_, possibly. I’m not, as you said, naïve to think that you don’t have some rules and morals stored in your mind.”

“I’m as shallow as the drying river, Senkuu-chan,” Gen reminds, despite his heart stopping a little at that possibility that Senkuu would really change his mind about it. It’s only now that he realizes how fragile bonds in this world can be, “No morals to speak of.”

“Interesting. So that’s why you were against smashing the stone figures back then?”

Gen blinks, surprised. He opens his mouth, once, twice, then closes it and stares at him_. How—?_

“And then Iyasu is there and you’re suddenly disoriented, as if presence of someone that knew you before the whole petrification fiasco happened made you unsure if you’re supposed to act like Gen we know or the Asagiri Gen of the entertainment show business.” A pause. Gen holds his breath, careful, “Because there are lots of versions of Asagiri Gen the Mentalist out there, aren’t there?”

“Senkuu-chan—“ Gen tries to speak.

Senkuu continues, “There’s the one who takes care of Suika when she’s down; there’s the one that manipulates his way into whatever he sees most profitable; there’s the one who hates physical work and would do anything to avoid it; there’s one who was loved by the world,” he looks at Gen, something bright in those red eyes making Gen flinch away, “and then, there’s just Asagiri Gen.”

_Just Asagiri Gen._

Gen tastes ash in his mouth as he swallows. Very carefully, he brings his gaze back to Senkuu, “I thought you didn’t play tricks.”

“Just an observation,” Senkuu answers, “You always brag about cataloguing everyone and knowing how them inside out, so it’s actually funny to see that you don’t actually realize that there are people as sharp as you. Take Kohaku, for one. You think she wouldn’t notice you sneaking out?”

“Wait—“

“Or that Chrome wouldn’t know Kaseki is so fond of you he’s probably planning to leave his entire house to you? Or that Suika immediately picked up that you ran away from all the alcohol because you hate that smell and not because you’re invested in the kids?”

“You’re really,” Gen grits out, _“really_ speculating a lot.”

“Proving my point, Mentalist.”

“Why do you even care about that?” Gen snaps.

Senkuu shuts up, his eyes glinting as he raises an eyebrow. Gen clenches his hand in the blanket and glares at him. Somehow, it’s easier to get angry than it is to keep calm, no matter how much practice Gen actually has in doing the latter.

“Why does anyone care about any of that? I don’t—I don’t _get it_. I’m the enemy.”

_Wait—_

“You’re not an enemy anymore,” Senkuu says.

_That’s right… I’m not an enemy. Am I? Can I be? No—_

“I can be.” Gen argues hotly, trying to keep up with the mess in his own head.

“And why are you so set on this?” Senkuu asks, “Why can’t the fact that somebody gives a damn be enough for you? They say I’m emotionally inept, but you, with your social skills maxed out, can’t even accept that somebody wants to be a friend to you. You’re going on and on about being the enemy – is it so hard to let go of that stupid concept and finally accept that you’re part of us?”

“_Yes.”_

“Why?”

“Because no one ever cared enough to do that before, either!”

A beat of silence.

“_Gen.”_

“You—You’re all so damn annoying. Friendship and kindness.” _Flowers over war_, “Being so careless. Someone would stab you in the back and you wouldn’t think twice about forgiving them. That’s how you all are. Innocent.” He nearly spits that out, “Befriending me? That’s ridiculous. Playing house isn’t really what the lot of them should be doing.”

“I don’t think any of us can classify as innocent anymore.” Senkuu’s eyes light up with a silent challenge.

“What if I’m just waiting to kill you? Take what you’ve created and run? Huh? Did you think of that?”

Senkuu answers, honest, “Obviously.”

Gen voice dies on him. Obviously, he says. He takes a shuddering breath and shakes his head, “And of course you’d ignore that.”

“If I were to listen to every ‘what if’ that I have then I wouldn’t be where I am now. I’d probably agree with Tsukasa that day and let him do that selection he wanted.” Senkuu takes a breath, “There’s a lot of things I’ve considered doing. I’m not as blind as you think, Gen. Just because I don’t show it doesn’t mean I don’t know how dangerous people can be.”

Gen snorts, “You have a funny way of showing that.”

“Does being paranoid come with the job of a mentalist or is it something you’ve picked up from somebody?”

“What are you on about?”

“It looks like you’re just getting defensive because I don’t have what you have. Insecurities a mile long. I’m certain of where I stand and I know how I got here. Do you?”

“Changing the subject?”

“Answer the damn question, Asagiri and maybe then we will stop running in circles.” Senkuu shoots back immediately. Gen glares harder, “You’ve been off ever since you got sick. Then Iyasu happened and you lost whatever sense of direction you had.”

“I know where I stand.”

“Really? Enlighten me.”

“On a thin line between your Kingdom of Science and the outside world. Two sides. I’m never, ever involved as much in something as you think I am. I’m always one foot in another direction.”

“Doesn’t seem like it. You didn’t even have to stay here with us, you choose to do so.”

“Stop twisting my words.”

“I’m trying to unlock your tragic past and it seems like it’s working. You’re getting angry and defensive and there’s no smirk on your face. I saw you eyeing an exit for a minute. Whatever defense you’ve build yourself is cracking and you’re too much of a coward to face me. Admit it.”

Gen grits his teeth so much it actually hurts, “Tragic past? There’s _no _tragic past.”

“But there is something even the great Asagiri Gen is too scared to reveal.” Senkuu says, voice a bit quieter, “And whatever that is it’s been bugging you since forever, so come on. Spill it.”

“Spill it?”

“There’s no Iyasu here. No Chrome or Kohaku. I don’t know who the Asagiri Gen of modern world was, either.”

“Senkuu-chan—“

“I want to know who Asagiri Gen is.”

Gen freezes.

“What?”

“I couldn’t care less about who you are as a mentalist, honestly. Whatever performance you’re always doing and whatever expectations you think people have of you – that’s not how it is with me. I thought you’d know that the only think I care about is your ability to help out with Kingdom of Science’s stuff and that’s about it.” Senkuu lays back down on his back, “Everyone here gets a clean start, Gen. You commit to work, your shady tricks come in handy – anything else you can offer is just a bonus, but no one really expects you to keep up a façade.

“You’re crazy, Senkuu-chan.” Gen breathes out, voice shaky.

“Yeah? All the best people are, didn’t you know?”

Gen says nothing back, but there’s something twisting and pulling at his heart and the mess in his head is tangling and tangling itself. It looks so chaotic that Gen has trouble remembering how the conversation steered from stealing blankets to this. Maybe that’s his karma. He wouldn’t be surprised if it were – Gen’s done a lot of shitty things in his life.

Does karma and recovery go in pair?

Maybe—

“You shouldn’t trust me,” Gen whispers, turned around and pretending that the blanket will shield him from any harm that can come if Gen slips up too much, “I’ve never told anyone the truth.”

“Doubtful.” Senkuu drawls out.

Gen presses his lips, thin. He’s waiting for another lecture, but nothing comes. Gen tries to focus on the beating of his heart, hoping that maybe if he stays quiet for long enough his heart will stop racing and his thoughts stop echoing. He’s not that lucky.

He’s always been good at running.

He’s too tired to run.

“I don’t know why I keep telling you all this, either.”

Senkuu keeps quiet. Gen frowns.

Logically, Gen knows why Senkuu doesn’t plan on getting rid of him. He knows that if he wanted he could turn tail and run to someone else, lie his way through and suck up to whoever will give him what he wants. There’s nothing really keeping him here, either and if he were planning to kill Senkuu like he said then he wouldn’t just blurt all this out to the man himself.

So the logical conclusion is that Gen isn’t planning on betraying anyone. Senkuu really has nothing to fear, but that fact scares Gen the most. If Senkuu is not careful, then Gen has to be careful for him. That’s his job.

“Did I finally make you speechless?” Senkuu finally asks, “Because if I did, please tell me so I can memorize the date and make it an anniversary.”

“That’s so cruel, Senkuu-chan,” Gen whispers, “I will sic Kohaku on you.”

“Scary,” Senkuu deadpans, “Real scary. What’s next? Making Suika throw flowers at me? I’m shaking.”

Gen can’t help it – he laughs. The whole situation is ridiculous in itself, with Gen childishly hiding away in a blanket and Senkuu suddenly taking the role of a bad cop. If it could get anymore cliché Gen would have probably banged his head on the wall.

As he calms down, Gen turns onto his back.

There’s silence for a long time before Gen speaks up again. And when he does, he thinks it doesn’t matter why he decides to say it now. After all, sometimes recovery begins after being stuck in stone for thousands of years and it begins with some bunch villagers who don’t know how to be anything less than friendly.

Looking back at it, maybe Gen wanted to say it all along. Just for the sake of saying it.

Just like that.

“I get nightmares.”

He hears rather than sees Senkuu propping himself back on his elbow, “Mhm. I figured.”

Gen smiles wryly, “I think I’ve always had this thing where I couldn’t sleep. Random bursts of insomnia here and there. Nightmares were just there, too, they were normal, you know?” He lifts his hand a little, as if wanting to catch a star above, “But the first time I actually had one that was vivid as hell was when I slept over here.”

“Weird as heck, Gen. And gross.”

“Didn’t you want to hear the tragic story of Asagiri Gen? Stop butting in.”

“Yes, yes. Continue, Mentalist.”

“There’s the thing about our brains, you know. Learned it a while ago. Sometimes our brains don’t feel safe, like when you associate certain objects or smells with fear and you’re just stuck in a loop where everything is dangerous. Sometimes, we don’t realize it. It’s,” he closes the hand above him, “just there. You watch your every step and you don’t—you don’t get that it’s _not _normal since it was always _your normal_, right? But when we do feel safe it’s a sign for our brains that it can process—process trauma.”

His voice gets stuck right there. Maybe there’s something about saying the last word out loud that’s really terrifying. Makes it more real.

He places his both hands on his stomach and breathes out, “And apparently nightmares are also a way of processing tra—it. Processing it. I didn’t know it until I begun thinking more and more about it. Like how many things I did because of it? And how many I did because I wanted to do them?” He closes his eyes shut. His head hurts, “Sleeping here meant nightmares but it feels less—“

“Lonely?” Senkuu finishes up.

“Yeah,” Gen mumbles lamely, “That.”

There’s a beat of silence, then, “What are the nightmares about, Gen?”

Something about that question feels more vulnerable than the rest.

“My mother.”

He thinks he can see Senkuu still, and Gen isn’t really surprised by that. Senkuu doesn’t know how it is to take care of your own mother, how it is to be the adult of the house. From what Gen heard Senkuu might have been adopted but he was loved and cared for.

Gen doesn’t know what it means to go home and be greeted by an emotionally stable parent, so sometimes it’s a little hard to listen to Senkuu as he reminisces about Byakuya and not feel envious.

“Your… mother.” Senkuu repeats.

Gen is glad that he turned around at the very beginning of the conversation. He has a feeling he wouldn’t actually survive seeing Senkuu’s pity or Senkuu’s _anything_, actually.

“Yeah,” his tongue feels like sandpaper, “She’s,” he hesitates, “She wasn’t,” he corrects, and tries to breathe calmly, “a good parent. I mean, that one is obvious, because who has nightmares if their mom is a good mom, right? Right, so. So it’s actually—“

“You’re rambling, Gen.”

“Am I? Sorry, it’s just—“ He cuts himself off, frustrated.

_That’s hard_, he thinks. That’s why lying was always easier, because telling the truth is more like trying to cut bread with a dense knife. Or at least, that’s how it is in Gen’s opinion, after all he’s lived his whole life never telling a soul about it.

“It’s fine,” Senkuu drawls out, “I’m not in a hurry, you know?”

Gen nods, not really listening.

He can do this. He’s Gen the Mentalist. He can just—

No. _Wait. _

He’s supposed to be just Asagiri Gen. Without any tricks. That’s what Senkuu wanted from him, right? So Gen should just suck it up and get it over with.

He opens his mouth, but the second he tries to get those words out, they get stuck somewhere in his throat. He frowns, clenching his hand harder on his blanket. Technically, it’s not hard. Talking is practically what Gen does for a living, so that should be easy, too. And yet, it’s just—

“I can’t say it,” he gives up, irritated.

Senkuu huffs, “Took you long enough to realize,” as Gen opens his mouth to retort, Senkuu adds in, “If it’s easier, I can ask questions. But do you really want to tell me?”

“Didn’t you literally give me a rant about how bottling up my feelings is bad?”

“I merely stated how you avoid forming friendship like a plague, I didn’t really give you a rant about bottling your feelings up. Do I look like a perfect example of someone who talks feelings?” Gen turns around to face him, just to give him a Look. Senkuu smirks, “Yeah. Exactly. And I’m asking out of social obligation, I don’t really intend to let you brush me off.”

“Aren’t you taking the befriending thing too far?” Gen asks exasperated.

“I’ve grown up with Taiju and Yuzuriha, you can’t not pick up some things about making friends when you’re stuck with them.”

Gen blinks, “…I don’t think I want to meet _meet_ them now, you know?”

“Now. This is exactly the reason why I’m going to arrange a crafting session with Yuzuriha and make you go to it. Thanks for giving me an idea.”

“You’re so cruel, Senkuu-chan,” Gen whines, covering his head up with his hands. He waits a while to calm down, then says, “You can—ask questions.”

“Mhm, alright.” There’s a second of thoughtful hum, then, “Your mother then. What was she like?”

Gen stares at him, clearly not expecting a question like that. He assumed Senkuu would. Well. Ask something else at the start. Maybe Gen is tired of thinking by now.

“Emotional,” Gen says, voice trembling only a little. If Senkuu notices, he doesn’t say anything, “loud, but she hated the noise. She um. She was a drinker. But that was after, after—“

“Did something happen that made her an alcoholic?”

Gen flinches and shoots him a look. Senkuu looks back, not really apologetic. Gen should have known better than to expect Senkuu to dance around the topic.

“I don’t know. Maybe that was me.” Senkuu frowns. Gen continues, “I guess she couldn’t take that her man left her to deal with me? Sometimes there’s no reason; sometimes people just use about anything to be an excuse to drink and—“ his voice gets quiet, “and that’s all there is to it.”

A beat of silence, then, “Did she hurt you?”

Gen snorts, “I mean it sucked—“

Senkuu cuts him off, “You know what I mean.”

Gen’s smile slips off and he shrugs, tucking the blanket around his hunched and tense shoulders, “Yeah,” he admits, then with voice barely above a whisper, “a lot.”

There’s something about this moment – when Senkuu looks at him and when Gen just wishes to forget that he exists – that’s making the situation feel vulnerable. The voice in his head, the one that told Gen to wake up every night to check up whether his Mama is still breathing, tells him that he’s letting himself be weak and that’s bad.

He chooses to ignore that.

“I just wanted her,” he sounds pathetic even to his ears, “I just wanted her to stop. I just—“

He doesn’t know when, but Senkuu must have moved at some point because Gen remembers there was some space between them and now, Senkuu is almost by his side. His presence is just enough to make Gen want to turn all the way and snuggle in and just let it be. He wonders if he’s as warm as Chrome is.

“I get it,” Senkuu says and Gen shakes his head.

“No,” his voice is scratchy and his throat is tight, “No, it’s— You don’t get it, because you’ve had the best life, okay? You never—“ his breath hitches and he hates himself for it, “had to stay up and sleep by your mother’s bed to make sure she doesn’t choke and you didn’t have to—to walk barefoot just so she wouldn’t have an excuse to hit you for being too loud and you didn’t have to pay for the meetings she never even went to and—“

“Gen—“

“You’ve had the best life, Senkuu-chan,” Gen whispers and he’s angry. Angry at himself, at his Mama, at his nameless father. At anyone who had it better than him, “You don’t get it.”

Senkuu is quiet for a moment, processing. There’s something in his eyes that makes Gen shut his own.

“You’re right. Sorry for getting ahead of myself,” Gen doesn’t say anything to that, “You didn’t deserve that.”

Gen laughs, but it’s ugly and bitter and all the things he’s kept inside himself for years, “Pretty sure I’m not as good as you think.”

“You think you deserved to go through that?”

“Well—“

“Because I don’t think so,” Senkuu says, “I don’t think anyone deserves to grow up as fast as you did, take care of themselves and pay for an adult’s mistakes, just because they have issues and can’t deal with them.” Gen opens his eyes, maybe a little bit tear-eyed, “Paying for her meetings? That’s also something you shouldn’t have had to do. Kids aren’t supposed to fix their parents, Gen. Even someone so messed up and socially inept like me, knows this.”

“She’s—“ he tries to keep it in and not cry just because of Senkuu’s gentle, but firm voice telling Gen things he wanted so desperately to hear when he was younger, “She’s my _Mama_.” His voice breaks at that.

Senkuu stares at him, “That didn’t stop her from hurting you, did it? It’s not an excuse, Mentalist.”

“I—“

“And it’s okay, I think,” Senkuu adds, a bit embarrassed but going through it anyways, “to need someone. Sometimes, we just need someone to hold us because the weight of what we’re carrying is a bit too much to carry alone.”

He doesn’t know who’s more surprised, him or Senkuu, when Gen shoots forwards into unsuspecting Senkuu’s arms and wraps himself around him like an octopus, as if scared that the second he lets go Senkuu will just disappear. He goes with it, despite feeling ridiculous and stupid and pathetic, because Senkuu said it’s okay.

And if he said it’s okay then he should just deal with it now. Yes. Exactly.

Instead of throwing him off, like Gen thought he’d at least try to do, Senkuu wraps his own arms around him. It feels like the first night Gen climbed up here and crawled under the blankets, cuddled up to him. It’s the same feeling of being safe.

“Thanks,” Gen croaks out.

“Yeah,” Senku coughs out, awkwardly patting his back, “Sure.”

“And I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. I really don’t do well with situations like this, Mentalist.”

“Mhm.”

Silence, then, “Are you, uh. Are you going to cry?”

Gen almost laughs, but it would come out ugly, so he just tightens his arms around him.

“Please don’t,” Senkuu asks, lamely.

There’s no answer after that, and Gen will never admit it, just like Senkuu will never say it happened, but Gen’s shoulders start to shake anyways and Senkuu’s clothes get a wet stain on them where Gen is trying hide his face.

And when Gen finally cries, it’s silent.

**Author's Note:**

> gen: i'm not here to make friends  
chrome: oh yeah, well  
kohaku: nobody cares about that  
senkuu, holding a sign saying "friendship is magic": what was that about friends? you want a sleepover?  
gen:  
gen: what the heck


End file.
